Razor Blade Smile
by Waltz-of-the-Dead
Summary: Oh yes….he had plummeted from grace with the ferocity of the traitor angels as they had been hurled from their paradise. But he wasn't the Prince of Darkness was he? He wasn't going to be cast aside…. No. No. He was the Clown Prince of Crime…


I dont own the Dark Knight or The Joker

A dirty florescent bulb flickered against the clutching fingers of darkness, gleaming off of a filthy mirror, dancing along the wickedly notched blade of a razor that rested on the edge of a filthy sink. A red dot gleamed in the darkness, the only witness to the bloodshed that was going to take place.

Laugher clawed at the gloom, laden with madness, echoing off crumbling, decrepit walls, writhing in the shadows. It was the melody of chaos, the mirth of the insane, maniac and cruel, mimicking the raving glee of the Fallen as he looked up at the bloody heavens through eyes distorted with the filth of his own destruction.

Oh yes….he had plummeted from grace with the ferocity of the traitor angels as they had been hurled from their paradise. But he wasn't the Prince of Darkness was he? He wasn't going to be cast aside….

No.

No.

He was the Clown Prince of Crime…and unlike the exiles of heaven he was going to bring the glories of his former Eden to bloody ruin…

He was going to drag them down…down to the bowels of savagery…down to his level of the inferno.

Oh yes…

And it was….

So. Fucking. Funny.

The hilarity of it smashed against his skull, pranced through his mind a sickening fluid grace. Look what humanity hath wrought, its laughing jester reaper!  
His fingers curled around the rusted handle of the razor grinning he shifted his stance thoughtfully tapping the blade against the faucet running his thumb across his cheek, tracing an invisible path to his ear.

There was room for improvement…

Definitely.

He slipped the blade into his mouth. Swallowing a giggle he pressed sharp edge to his inside of his cheek.  
Blood flowed thick against his tongue and he laughed harder feeling the soft flesh of his face begin to split and tear. Absurd agony pranced from his bleeding face to his twisted mind and he gasped almost choking on his own delight, choking on his own blood.

Crimson dribbled down his chin running in rivets down his neck staining cloths with gore. The blade slid free from his face with a grotesque slurp, blood arching against the mirror marring his reflection.

He leered at himself flicking his tongue along the gash that ran raggedly from the corner of his mouth half way to his ear. His lips curled in a hideous blood soaked smile,

Not bad….

No…not bad….

At.

All.

He bared his teeth at his blood spattered image,

Ah yes….

This was why he used a knife…..

Knives never lied they always sliced away masks carved bloody smiles, slit throats, and made people bare their souls. The blade always reflected how the world saw them, and when it was finally over the blade always reveled who they really were…

It was so…deliciously simple….and he savored every moment, every scream….every cry for mercy….

He chuckled, it slid between his teeth slick with blood.

The razor glinted in the mirror, sliced between lips, cold steel on his tongue. He gently sucked on the blade, and then turned it so the edge was resting against his bottom lip. He grinned against the metal that filled his mouth then he clenched his jaw and tore the blade from his mouth. He watched the soft flesh of his lower lip split open, and felt tepid warmth trail down his chin.

He clutched the edges of the blood smeared sink his shoulders shaking in silent mirth. Before the laughter ripped from his clenched teeth and shattered against the porcelain of the sink. Reaching forward he trailed his fingers across the blood splattered glass of the mirror smudging his reflection even further.

Still slumped forward he pushed the razor blade back between his lips,

He would take his time on this side….

Couldn't rush perfection….could we?

Head bowed his began to viciously saw the blade back and forth.

Blood ran down his fingers and wrists in garnet ribbons. Anguish screamed its jeering rapture is his ears mingling with wet sucking sound of his blood heavy breath. He glanced up sneer at his reflection when the razor finally ripped free from his face.

Crimson leaked down his mutilated face and dripped thickly into the sink. He flicked his gaze up admiring his reflection through the gore the distorted the mirror.

There…that was better…..

Yes….this is who he really was…the facade that had been created was now sluggishly sliding his face and into drain. He smiled watching the ragged skin stretch and pull back into a hellish snarling grin. The razor flicked to mouth and he slowly licked the blade clean.

It was bad form for an artist have dirty instrument….

He licked his lips…

Then turned to the crumpled heap that lay behind him on the floor, he gave it a savage kick tilting his head as it screamed arching off the floor.

He flinched, and leaned forward fresh blood dribbling from his face,

"Shhhhhhh,"

Reaching down his gripped the limp figure by the hair ruthlessly twisting them around so they could see themselves in the mirror,

"You will be the first,"

He laughed clawing his fingers through his victims tangled hair; and pressed the razor blade against their quivering lips

"Let's put a smile on that face…."


End file.
